


Leave Me, Oh Love

by AceQueenKing



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Force Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No offense," she said, "but I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."</p><p>"Leia-" Vader said, but she held up her hand. </p><p>"Of all the dead people in my life, you really are the one I least want to see right now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Me, Oh Love

Like the good politician she had always been, Leia did her duty despite her feelings.

She ignored the ache in her bones as she watched the battle against the Star Killer, ignored the cracks in her heart as she sent Rey to meet what felt more and more like the girl's destiny.

She ignored all the feelings that a leader did not have time to feel.

Now she was alone and, despite the noise of celebrating pilots outside, her office was quiet. She was deeply aware of it: the only noise in the room was her breath, inescapable but quiet.

She sat on her desk, pulled out a bottle of Alderanian wine. She still remembered Han's face when he'd given it to her: the curve of his lips, the softness of his smile.

 _For something special_ , he'd whispered, and she'd smiled then.

She was not smiling now.

She had made Han promise that they wouldn't open it until the war was over, and he'd laughed. Promised.

Now, she knew, they were being naive in making such promises. The Empire was still there. Han would never be able to share it with her. And Luke...

She closed her eyes as she thought of Luke; had he felt it, too? Did he know?

 _Luke_ , she thought, trying blindly to trace the mental path she'd once felt toward her brother.  _Luke, can you hear me? I don't want to be alone right now._

The path between them was closed, silent.

 _Please_. She tried to imagine what Luke looked like now. It had been at least ten years since she saw him. Had middle age filled out his frame? Was he still always so eager, so helpful, so kind? _Please. Luke, I need you._

Luke, wherever he was, was not listening.

A sob escaped her as she opened the bottle. It did not stop her from pouring  her wine.

She let herself cry, the tears falling as she brought the wine up to her lips and took a sip.

It tasted bitter.

For a moment she thought of trying to reach out out even to Ben, to try to understand, but she knew that would be impossible. Ben had crossed the line, and the moment Han had died, he had been fully cleaved from her. She'd known it would be this way since he went chasing after Vader's legacy.

She could not follow Luke on Endor.

She could not follow Ben now.

A gentle presence in the force nudged her head;  _Luke_ , she thought, opening her mind to the communication.

" _My Child_ ," an unknown yet not unfamiliar voice rasped behind her as a ghostly hand tightened on her shoulder.

Her heart beat faster; not Luke, not Luke at all. But she knew those hands.

Even in death, Darth Vader's hands had retained their weight; the feel of those large fingers caressing her shoulder stiffly was unmistakable. The fact that he wore a flesh and blood guise rather than the armor she had always known mattered little - they were still the same hands that had restrained her at Alderaan. 

She straightened reflexively; he said nothing.

For a moment, neither breathed a word.

She recovered first, feigning nonchalance by taking a long sip of her wine.

Weakness was something she had long ago learned to avoid showing when it came to Darth Vader.

"No offense," she said, "but I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."  
  
"Leia--" he said, but she held up a hand.

"Of all the dead people in my life," she noted, "you really are the one I least want to see right now."  
  
He sighed; the hand that had held her shoulder dropped like a stone.

"I'm sorry," he said, simply. The apology hung there, wet and odious. Leia stood up and glared out the window, her back still ramrod straight.

"You're sorry for what?"

He had many sins to atone for, and she didn't want to think about any of them.   
  
There were still people celebrating outside her window; she could see Nien Numb and Poe dancing. One of the new pilots – Leia couldn't remember her name – was lifting up a banner proclaiming their victory.  Leia blinked back tears.

She had been like them once: young, naive.

"For a great many things," Vader said, standing next to her but not daring to touch her. Good.  
  
The new pilot looked up and smiled up at Leia; if she could see Vader, no doubt she thought it nice that the General had visitors.

Leia didn't smile back. She did  _not_ appreciate her visitor.  
  
"Why are you here?" she asked.

"You should not be alone," The hand reached out for her; she ignored it, and, after a few moments, Vader let it drop.   
  
She said nothing, shutting the curtains in a fury instead. Vader, she thought, did not have the right to decide  _anything_  for her.

"I want to comfort you, daughter," he said. He ran a hand through unfamiliar sandy-brown hair, an uncomfortable wince on his face. "I know I have no right -- "  
  
"Less than that." She said, moving further away from him, toward the file cabinets. "If you wanted to be my father, you're fifty years too late."

The words landed as blows on Vader's pride; she felt the air thicken as Vader glared at her. "I never abandoned you, daughter – if I had known of you, I would have come for you without hesitation and -- "  
  
"I'm glad," she said, "That you did not have that choice."  
  
He looked down, and she felt the atmosphere of the room change – thick, too-sweet guilt, suffocating and inespecapable.

Being with him was always asphyxiating. Death had not changed that, either.

"I know what it feels like, Leia," he muttered, his voice bitter. "To mourn a spouse and a child."  
  
His eyes were furious and dark but she did not look away from his gaze.

She'd learned long ago that one did not show weakness to Darth Vader.

"Do you not think I mourned your mother?" He moved toward her, his phantom hand reaching for her chin. "Do you not think I mourned  _you_?"  
  
She said nothing as he caressed her cheek, the touch both cold and strange. "I know this pain well, Leia. It hurts  _so much more_  than death."

"I do, too," she said, pulling his hand away. "And I have since Alderaan."  
  
"I know." He closed his eyes and the force felt heavy on both their shoulders, oppressive. "And I wish you did not."  
  
"Me too," she said, balling her hands into fists. "But thanks to you, my home is gone, my brother is missing, my son is lost, and my husband is dead."  
  
"I know." He looked away, avoiding her gaze.

_Coward._

"I have tried to talk to him." Vader said, ignoring her anger. "To warn him of the path he has taken. He doesn't listen."  
  
"Like grandfather, like grandson."

Han's voice rings in her ears, clarion clear:  _He has too much Vader in him._

"The Dark Side is a tempting mistress," he said. "And it is easy to fall for her. Do not hate him for -- "

"Murdering his father?" She scoffed, her heart beating faster.

"Or for letting him fall? For not even..." Her voice wavered, but she kept the words coming, her fingers balled into tiny fists. "For not even having the decency to give me a body to bury?"  
  
He said nothing.

"I can't forgive him of that. No more than I can forgive you." She felt the tears slip down her cheeks, and ignored them. "That speech might work on Luke, but... I'm not Luke."

"Your brother has a gift for mercy, Leia." Vader said. "But compassion -- "  
  
"Is Luke even alive? Do you even know?"   
  
"He lives. But I cannot say more than that. He has not sought me," Vader said; his face that of a broken man. "Not for a long time."  
  
"No wonder. Some parents screw up their kids, but you..." She took a deep breath. "You didn't just ruin yours, you ruined both of ours,  _and_ my son's life. And we were innocent, we _did not_  deserve this."  
  
"Leia..."  
  
"And you want to comfort me for your sins?" She said, talking even as the words felt thick in her throat. "Be honest,  _Vader_ : is this visit for me -- or for you?"  
  
"Leia... That is not my -- "

"I can't deal with you right now," she rasped, collapsing into the chair. "Please go."

Vader nodded, his face stony as her non-father respected her wishes for the first time in her life. He shimmered, and he was gone.

\- - -

She cried.

She drew her knees to her chest as she shook. Her hands wiped away tears that fell hot on her cheeks until they fell so fast that wiping them seemed pointless. She did not cry out. She did not want anyone to walk in and see her, did not want to ruin what for most of the resistance had been a clear victory.

She had made it through Alderaan without falling to pieces, and it felt foolish to do so now.

But then – she had not been alone then.

 _Han, I'm so sorry._  She wiped the tears away furiously. She'd told him to go after Ben, to bring him home – but she'd never dreamed that Ben would be so unrepentant. If Darth Vader could murder Palpatine for the sake of an unknown but not unloved child, how could her child murder his own father?

How odd to think the baby whose unruly hair she gently brushed away from her breast was a murder.

A murderer not only of Luke's students, but Han. Sweet Han, who had held him in his arms, who had given him  _every_  opportunity to come home; he had died for it, in the end.

Luke's class had been a tragedy. She had despaired over what Ben had done, but doubt had always existed at the edge of her mind: Had it truly been Ben? Perhaps there had been a reason. Perhaps it had been self-defense, some sort of cruel joke gone wrowng. There had been so many questions that had not been answered. With Luke gone, it was easier to avoid thinking about it, to bury the dead and wonder when he son was coming home.

Now she knew. Ben was as dead as Luke's other students.

And Han was never coming home.

She raised her glass in bitter resentment. Her husband and her son lost in one, bitter sweep.

A ghostly hand hit her shoulder and she startled as she felt the weight of it slam down on her again.

Vader, she grimaced, was nothing if not persistent.

“I told you,” she growled. “Go away.”

"Aw, sheesh, Princess," Han's unmistakable voice drawled. “You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.”  
  
“What?” She whirled around in the chair as Han smirked, his lips sliding up into the cocky smile that she missed, dearly.

“Han?” She said, and oh, how she  _hated_ how her voice trembled. If Han saw how her hands shook as she reached for him, he was damn well enough of a gentleman not to comment on it, self-described scoundrel or not.

“Is it really you?” She asked, half afraid of the answer. If this was – this was some kind of sick attempt from Vader to make her feel better...

Han swallowed. She could see the wobble in his Adams apple, even as it shimmered underneath her fingers.   
  
He nodded, reaching for her as she did him, and she felt herself being folded into a ghostly embrace. She could feel the weight of him in the force, but it felt wrong: the weight was there but not the smell of him, the warmth. It was a sort of half-hug, heavy and bittersweet.

“How?” She whispered, voice tremulous. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, echoing her question loudly. Han was  _dead_ and unless Luke was wrong, there was no way someone who wasn't force sensitive –

“Your dad grabbed me and said he was going to give me a chance to say goodbye,” he stroked the back of her head, and she closed her eyes. “Didn't bother to ask 'im about the science behind it. Was kind of thrown off by getting welcomed to the afterlife by  _Darth Vader.”_  
  
She said nothing, resting her head on his chest and letting Han stroke her hair. She breathed deep and tried to imagine the smell of him: always slightly woodsy, with just the slightest hits of engine grease from the falcon and, sometimes, the unmistakable smell of Chewie's fur. She concentrated hard on the feel of his hands – broad, large, comforting. They moved in a familiar circular pattern, one she'd known for thirty years and one she couldn't face never knowing again.

She clung to him, her arms tight. “I miss you,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry and her heart aching.

 _The more you hold onto something, the more it slips through your fingers._  
  
“I miss you too, babe,” he said, chuckling. “More than you can imagine. Death is gonna suck without you keeping me in trouble.”  
  
“You've always managed to get in plenty of trouble without me,” she said , voice shaking. There were tears falling down her cheeks. She didn't dare move her arms to bother to wipe them away, couldn't bear not tearing herself away from Han.

“Wasn't ever as much fun as when I was with you, though,” He says, his eyes crinkling in the way they always do right before he smiles.

“We had some good times.” Her heart ached, ached: how could her baby have seen this man, this smile, and killed him?

“Yeah. Could have done without the garbage compactor, though. What kind of government puts a tentacle monster in a garbage compactor?”  
  
In spite of her heart, Leia smiled. It was an old complaint, one he used to tease her about.   
  
But that had been before before Luke had left, before Ben had died in all but body, before all they could do was stare at one another and remember that the people they loved were either dead or gone.

“Maybe I'll ask your dad or one of them Death Star engineers over here. Seems like I've got the time.”  
  
“Don't talk about that,” she whispers. She doesn't like to think about that, about Han stuck alone, waiting. Or, worse, stuck with  _Vader_.

“Hey, it won't be so bad, princess. You're not getting any younger, you know – hell, given your martyr complex, it'll be what, fifty years tops?” He pats her back as he gives her that old cocky grin that means he's trying to bluff. “Blink of an eye.”  
  
“Thanks,” she says. In truth, she doubts it will be that long. She's been fighting the good fight so long and she's so  _tired_. It's hard to imagine dying of old age. She can only hope she'll have the good fortune to go out fighting, to lay down her life for the one cause she had left.   
  
“Take your time, princess,” Han whispered. “Not sure how long Vader – Anakin, I guess – has given us. Said it requires a lot of force power, and... Shit, I'm just gonna say it. Princess, I'm so sorry. I thought I got through to him. I thought I...” he trailed off for a moment, swallowed. She saw the familiar bob of his Adam’s apple, felt his hands fidget, and knew he felt he had failed her. “I didn't think he was so far gone.”  
  
“Neither did I, or I never would have sent you after him,” she admits, her hand stroking his chin. “I didn't...”  
  
“Hey now,” he muttered. “Don't you go blaming yourself for this. It's not your fault. Hell, it's barely even my fault. It's just – “  
  
“Ben,” she said, her voice all mourning. Han had always been good at slipping beneath her masks, and she could never hide how she felt around him.

“There was conflict in him, I felt it.” He said. “Don't give up on him, hon.”  
  
“How can you ask me to pardon him?” She felt her voice tremble as her tears fell. “Our baby murdered you, Han.”  
  
“I know.” He wrapped his hands around her neck, stroking . “Believe me, I know. But – “  
  
Han's voice garbled, the image beneath her fingers blinked, less solid.

“Han?”  
  
“Can't – “Another garbling; he faded in, then out, and Leia felt her heart sink into her stomach, sick with the knowledge that they were running out of time.

“Han!”

“Lose you both--.”  
  
The connection shimmered, the weight beneath her fingers quickly becoming nothing. She gripped tighter, but the connection slipped between her fingers, Han's spirit disappearing as abruptly as it had come.

The room was silent. In the distance, she could hear the celebrations, the music, but they were not for her. She had long worn a mask, but no part of her could laugh thinking about Han, about Ben.

She missed them both so much. It hurt to breath to even think of them.

She closed her eyes, opened herself to the force. It moves through us all, Luke had whispered, and maybe, maybe – it would lead her to some sort of peace . To Rey. To Luke. To Ben.

She could feel the movement of her breath; in, out, in, out, each breath desperate for contact. She could feel the ray of the sun on her skin. She could hear the hearts of her Resistance, still fighting the good fight two generations in. She pressed her hand into her chest, trying to center herself despite all the feelings swirling inside her. Luke had always been better at that, had always been calm in the key moments, and she felt the aching lack of him in every breath she breathed.

She let herself be one with the moon and more distance stars, with planets that even Luke's star chart had not touched – and felt tiny Takodana shrink away, just one cluster in an endless galaxy of stars. She opened her mind as much as she could. Leia ignored the aching pulse of her heart, ignored the way her eyes stung, ignored the way the future seemed dark and dismal. She opened her mind to _possibility_  and  _fate_ and listened as attentively as she ever had.

Luke would be proud of her, if he was listening.

But instead of Luke, she felt – no one. She could not feel Rey; the girl's bubbly nature, so sorely needed, was untouchable. Chewie's grieving heart did not touch her, though she did not know if she could bear their combined mourning. Both Ben and Luke were mysteries, impossibly closed off to her. Han was beyond her ability to reach now; she thought of Luke's offer to train both her and Ben and, for once, she regretted it, wiping stinging tears away. Even Vader – long looming whenever she touched the force – remained silent.

There was a knock at the door, and she quickly brushed the tears from her eyes.  
  
“ General,” Ackbar said, his speech cautious. “ We've got a situation down in the war room. We could use you, if – “  
  
“I'm on it,” she said, wiping her eyes.   
  
Like the good politician she has always been, Leia did her duty despite her feelings.


End file.
